The Hawk and the Spider
by The Red Fedora
Summary: Natasha was his partner and her safety was his responsibility - his alone. He would not fail her again. She was more than his partner; she was the other half of his soul. Without the Spider, there was no Hawk.


Disclaimer: not mine…no matter how much I wish the Hawk was…

Author's Note: This one was inspired by Brantley Gilbert's song 'You don't know her like I do'. Thought it fit the Hawk and the Spider beautifully. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

_You don't know her like I do, you'd never understand._

_And you don't know what we've been through,_

_That girl is my best friend._

_And there's no way you're going to help me_

_She's the only one who can._

_- Brantley Gilbert 'You don't know her like I do'_

* * *

The gossamer curtains swayed gently beneath the caress of the cool sea breeze, which drifted through the open windows of the room. The rhythmic whisper of the rolling surf on the beach below provided a soothing soundtrack to the overall peace of the scene. The soft light cast from the lone lamp beside the bed illuminated a tousled mass of red curls and a delicate face with skin the color of porcelain. The pink lips parted slightly, emitting a faint snore as Natasha slept soundly, oblivious of the breeze and the sound of the surf…and the watchful eyes of her self-appointed protector.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Barton's lips at the sound of the snore as he watched over his sleeping partner from his perch on the window seat nearest to the bed. The humor faded as his eyes traced her features slowly, taking in each darkening bruise, each scrape that marred her flawless skin and the misshapen lump of the bandage hidden beneath the blanket. He knew he should be grateful her injuries had not been more extensive given the circumstances. His eyes lingered, watching the gentle rise and fall of the blankets as she breathed, and his ears strained to catch the sound of every whispered breath…reassuring himself that she was alive. That she was safe.

That she was here.

_How do you know that she is still alive?_

Blue eyes slid shut as the weight of the memories returned in full force. Strong, calloused fingers clenched the hard frame of the bow as he recalled the percussive force of the blast and the searing heat of the flames against his skin. The attack had been well planned and well thought out…carefully designed with one purpose in mind: to trap the elusive Black Widow. An old enemy had offered a great sum for the capture and delivery of Natasha Romanov, apparently a sum great enough to risk the ire of S.H.I.E.L.D. and that of the Earth's greatest heroes. The warning had come too late. The explosion had leveled the building that he had watched her enter mere moments earlier.

He had vanished that night, dropping from sight as he stalked her murderers on his own. It had taken him three days to track the mercenaries to a small village buried in the sands of the Saudi Desert…and another twenty-four hours before he discovered that Natasha still lived, a revelation that had rocked him to his core. He had returned to the safe house to plot his next move and found Banner waiting for him. Stark had managed to do what Fury could not: to locate the elusive Hawk when he did not want to be found. It was lucky for them both that he had needed their help.

_How do you know she is still alive? That this isn't just another trap?_

The revelation of Natasha's survival had been met with cautious acceptance by the good doctor, and then by Rogers when he arrived moments later. He sensed their disbelief and countered it. If Natasha was alive then she was still fighting. Her time was running out quickly but they had a chance to save her, if they moved quickly. The situation called for a delicate hand, one more subtle than the vibrant colors and shock-and-awe of the Avengers as a whole, and so it had been decided that he would invade the base with the aid of Rogers alone, sans the stripes and shield. All had gone surprisingly according to plan, until Natasha had attempted to take out Rogers as he barged into her makeshift cell. She was malnourished, bruised and a little worse for wear, but as Barton had predicted, still alive and fighting mad.

_What took you so long?_

A fond smile graced Barton's lips at the memory of her weary grin; it widened as he recalled Roger's stunned expression as the man struggled to clear his head of the fog her blow had dealt him. He had tried to warn the man prior to the mission, but Rogers, while he respected Natasha's abilities, was blinded by his engrained code of chivalry. Natasha had never been one for playing the damsel-in-distress, unless she was playing a mark. The only thing that had prevented her from an escape attempt of her own was the bullet wound in her thigh, an act by her captors to discourage such an action.

Even with the wound, and her position slung over Roger's shoulders, she still managed to take out a few guards on her own with a few well placed shots during their retreat. All subterfuge regarding their identity ended up for naught when the outer wall of the fortress was disintegrated with one large concussive blast courtesy of Iron Man, however opportune his timing had been. To say that Fury had not been happy was an understatement. The resurrection of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top assassin and the downfall of one of the country's most wanted most likely accounted for the reason Barton had not been thrown into a dark hole to rot for going AWOL…that and the fact that Stark had whisked them all out of Fury's reach with the plan that they remain so until Natasha had a chance to recover and Fury's temper cooled.

Stark's private island was a virtual fortress, shielded from the outside world by state-of-the-art technology and guarded by the combined forces of the remaining Avengers…all of whom had taken the attack on Natasha very, _very_ personally. Despite the lack of any real danger, the Hawk found himself unable to find the strength to relinquish his post nor his bow. Natasha was his partner and so her safety was his responsibility…and his alone. He would not fail her again.

She was more than his partner; she was the other half of his soul.

Without the Spider, there was no Hawk.

The four days he had thought her dead had been among the darkest of his life. Ninety-six hours…five thousand seven hundred and sixty minutes…three hundred forty five thousand six hundred seconds.

His heart clenched in his chest at the thought and he opened his eyes, desperate for assurance that it was not a dream. Blue eyes met green and the desperation fell away beneath the quiet strength emanating from his partner's gaze. He slid smoothly from his perch, moving forward without thought as a hand slipped from beneath the blankets and reached for his. Natasha's brow furrowed as she tugged him down to sit beside her, and his eyes drifted close for a moment as her free hand rose to gently cradle his face. He leaned into her with a weary sigh as she traced circles beneath his eye with the pad of her thumb.

"This wasn't your fault." She stated softly.

Her hand dropped to curl around the back of his neck and the bow slipped from his fingers to the floor as she used the added leverage to pull herself upright. His arms wrapped around her and he buried his face against her neck as a shuddering sigh ran the length of his body.

"It wasn't your fault, Clint." She repeated softly.

"Coulson would have known." He whispered as he clutched her tighter. "He would have found you sooner."

A soft laugh caused him to pull back.

"You're not Coulson." Natasha murmured softly as she met his questioning gaze. "And if he was here right now, I'm certain he would tell you that you did well, Clint." She tugged his head down and pressed her forehead against his. "You did well."

"I thought I'd lost you." The words fell from his lips before he could prevent them. "I nearly did."

"I knew you would come, Hawkeye." He felt more than heard her soft sigh. "I never doubted that you would."

Warmth spread through his chest at her soft declaration, melting away the lingering ice that gripped his heart. He closed the breath of space between them and brushed his lips to hers. He felt her fingers slide into his hair as she pressed closer, deepening the kiss, and he drew back as she winced suddenly.

"You need to rest." He chastised gently. "There will be time for this later."

She settled back against the pillows, a small mock pout gracing her lips despite the pain etched on her face. The pout vanished as she raised a hand to his face. "Are you going to be okay?"

Clint grinned as he covered her hand with his and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"I will be." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, breathing in her scent, relishing in the fact that she was alive. "I will be."

Yes, he would be fine in time...as long as she remained beside him.

The Hawk and the Spider.

Barton and Romanov.

Clint and Natasha.

_You don't know how much I've got to lose…you don't know her like I do…_


End file.
